


the luckiest man

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Background Soulmate AU, Bottom Shiro, Futurefic, Ignores S8, M/M, Porn with Feelings, PostWar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: Shiro and Keith get interviewed ten years after the war, and spend some quality time together too. [Sheithlentines 2020]
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 99
Collections: Sheithlentines 2020





	the luckiest man

**Author's Note:**

> a sheithlentines gift for [@mose_doodles](https://twitter.com/mose_doodles)! your art always brightens my day--i hope this fic brightens yours. <3

They’re waiting in a quiet room in a nondescript building on Trorix M29: it’s a branch of Phenomena Weekly, currently the only entertainment publication with a galaxy-wide reach. On Earth, there isn’t a supermarket or dentist’s office without a copy of PW in its magazine lineup, and it’s won a stack of awards from planets all over the Milky Way. To be called for an interview for its tenth-anniversary special edition is a high honor.

Shiro glances at Keith, whose knee has been bouncing for the last five minutes straight. He’s staring straight ahead, jaw set. He doesn’t look particularly honored. Shiro leans sideways and bumps Keith’s shoulder with his own. “You okay there, babe?”

“You know I don’t like this stuff,” Keith mutters.

Yeah, Shiro knows. He can’t help but tease a little, though. “What’s the worst part, do you think? Posing for cameras, being immortalized in the pages of a magazine read by roughly seven trillion subscribers, or answering a long list of incredibly personal questions by a complete stranger?”

The death glare Keith gives him would rival the scariest one Zarkon ever managed. “They should have just interviewed _you_. You’re the charming one.”

“I think you’re plenty charming,” Shiro muses. “Especially last night, when you—”

“Hello! I’m _so_ sorry to have kept you waiting, there was a printer jam, you know how it is, it’s the twenty-second century and still they can’t make a printer that won’t shred someone’s cover graphics demo—” An out-of-breath Trorixian bursts through the sliding doors, frantically smoothing down their short blue fur. “I’ll be conducting your interview today, gentlemen. My name is Z’Kobora, but you can call me Zee. All the offworlders do.”

“I relate,” Shiro tells them with a wry grin, shaking their hand. “Takashi Shirogane... but you can call me Shiro. All the offworlders do. Plus most of the Terrans.”

“Isn’t _that_ right.” Z’Kobora grins back, immediately seeming more relaxed.

Keith shakes their hand too. “Keith Shirogane. Just Keith is fine.”

“I’d say you’re a bit more important than _Just Keith._ ” Z’Kobora winks.

“That’s what I try to tell him!” Shiro says. “But I don’t think he believes me.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Keith groans.

Z’Kobora claps their hands. “Well, let’s get started, shall we? I’m dying to get to know you both!” They tap a few keys on their holopad, and a small flying drone carrying a tray of hot tea comes humming into the room. It smells almost like apples and cinnamon, though Shiro is fairly certain that neither exists on Trorix, and when he tastes it, there are sweet undertones he can’t ascribe to any familiar flavor. Regardless, it’s delicious, and even Keith appears soothed by the presence of tea.

The interview starts off with the usual series of questions about where they both grew up, how they found their way into the Galaxy Garrison, and so on. These are facts that are already widely known about Shiro and Keith, however, and the questions are more likely intended to relax them before turning to deeper topics.

Z’Kobora doesn’t waste much time before those deeper topics, though. “I understand that Terrans are born with what you call soul-clocks. Could you tell me a little more about that?”

They don’t talk about this often in interviews, but to Shiro’s surprise, Keith jumps to answer. “That’s right. They look like tattoos on the inner wrist, but they count down to the moment you meet your soulmate.”

“We have something similar on Trorix,” Z’Kobora explains. “It’s more like a psychic link, though. We feel faint echoes of what our soulmates are feeling. I have not yet met mine, but—” Their eyes soften. “They’re having a good day today. But—enough about me, I’m here to talk about you.”

“That’s all right,” Shiro assures them. “It’s nice to get to know each other, don’t you think?”

Z’Kobora smiles. “It is. Although I think you’ve had a far more interesting life than I have! For instance, wasn’t there something different about the two of you and your soul-clocks?”

“Well, I was born without one. So was Shiro.” Keith turns his left hand palm-up, showing the black 0:00 imprinted there. “At the Garrison, it was something that we bonded over. Neither of us had met anyone else without a clock. Ours only appeared later.”

Shiro closes his eyes for a moment, remembering.

“ _I died, Keith_.” _His wrist as blank as always. Below his feet, an infinite sea of stars. The purple half-light from an unseen source. Trapped in a twilight land, trapped between life and death, wishing to return to the living world, wishing for the peace of non-existence, wishing for so many things he could not have._

“It was when I woke up,” Shiro says in a quiet voice. Z’Kobora is frozen in their seat, silent as a statue, hanging on his every word. “When Allura pulled me out of the astral plane, and I entered another body, opened someone else’s eyes, and... fell into his arms. Literally.”

“I’ve gotten a couple of tattoos since then,” Keith adds. “That’s the only sensation I can compare it to—in that moment, holding him, I felt my skin start to burn. Not so bad I couldn’t stand it, but definitely noticeable. And when I looked, there it was.” He taps the numbers on his wrist. “Because we already loved each other. The clocks had to catch up to us, that’s all.”

“Any theories why that happened?” Z’Kobora asks. “It’s unusual, right?”

“I’ve heard of a few others being born without the clock,” Keith says. “But never of one appearing where it didn’t exist before.”

“I’ve got a theory.” Shiro puts his arm around Keith’s shoulder. “I think Fate intended for me to die before Keith and I could be together. So we didn’t have the clocks, because we were going to be separated too soon. But at the same time... there was no one else in the world for us except each other. The way I see it, Fate had a fight with Keith, and Keith won.”

“Seems like that happens a lot,” Z’Kobora jokes.

“You’re telling me.” Shiro rolls his eyes, but his arm tightens, pulling Keith against his side. “It’s one of the many reasons, despite everything that’s happened to me, I’d still say I’m the luckiest man alive.”

The rest of the interview passes smoothly, the questions a little more mundane. Shiro has a feeling Z’Kobora already has a hook in mind for their story, and it’s not about Shiro and Keith’s favorite foods or their recommendations for the best lunar vacation spots.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Z’Kobora tells them at the end, clearly meaning it. “I hope you’ll drop by Trorix another time in the future.”

“We’ll look you up if we do,” Keith promises. “We can do lunch or something.”

Shiro nods. “Definitely. And bring your soulmate along, if you’ve met them by then.”

“I will certainly do so. Have a wonderful rest of the day, both of you.”

*

“That wasn’t so bad,” Shiro comments, as they return to the spaceport where they left their ship.

Keith shoots him another glare. “Says the charmer. _I_ think you should buy me a drink later, for answering so many personal questions.”

“I’ll do that and more, if you want.” Shiro winks; it makes Keith turn a pleasing shade of pink.

Keith may be blushing, but his eyes narrow, and it’s possible Shiro may be in for it anyway. “That reminds me—what is it you were going to say earlier? Before Z’Kobora walked in?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shiro says. “I’ve been perfectly innocent all day.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Keith’s eyes flash, and Shiro finds himself getting shoved up against the side of the ship, held there by Keith’s considerable strength. “So you meant nothing by it when you said I was charming last night?”

“I meant, ah... Keith, your leg is...” Shiro bites his lip, struggling not to move against the thigh Keith has wedged between his.

“I’m just standing here.” Keith bats his eyes. “Innocently.”

“Let’s go inside,” Shiro grits out, jerking his head at the ship’s doors. “And I’ll tell you exactly how charming you are.”

*

Keith held it together for the interview, but now he’s got a lot of pent-up nervous energy to work off—preferably on Shiro. Shiro laughs as Keith nudges him in the direction of the bunk inside the ship. “The bed at the hotel’s a lot bigger. You can’t wait?”

Keith’s hands land on Shiro’s waist, spinning him around so they’re facing each other. “Do you _want_ me to wait?”

“Not particularly,” Shiro breathes. “You got me kind of...worked up.”

“Yeah, I know.” Keith gives Shiro a little shove to the chest; Shiro steps backward, feels the edge of the bed hit the back of his legs, and sits down heavily. “Stay just like that,” Keith tells him. He sticks two fingers into the knot on his tie and tugs it loose, eyes never leaving Shiro’s. His jacket and dress shirt get tossed unceremoniously over the back of a chair. The click of metal and slide of leather when he undoes his belt makes Shiro bite his lip. Shirtless, Keith steps forward between Shiro’s open thighs, while Shiro sweats and squirms in his buttoned-up shirt collar and slacks that are now far too tight. “Tell me what you liked about last night.”

“You were so beautiful,” Shiro says, the words coming easy. Keith always makes it easy. “I’m still thinking about how you sounded, and the way you moved. The way you opened up for me.”

“Just like you’re gonna open up for me now, right?” Keith trails his fingertips down the side of Shiro’s jaw. “First your mouth, then your pretty hole. I know what you need, baby.” He slides his hand to the back of Shiro’s head, pulling Shiro forward so his face presses against the front of Keith’s pants, where his cock is already straining against the fabric. On instinct, Shiro mouths at it, sucking at the head through the cloth. Keith whimpers and his fingers tighten in Shiro’s hair. “Always so good,” he sighs. “Do you want to suck my cock, sweetheart?”

“Mmmn...” Shiro moans, nodding. “Please, Keith.”

“Anything you want,” Keith murmurs. He unzips his pants and shoves them down to mid-thigh, baring himself to Shiro’s hungry gaze.

Shiro pauses, staring up into Keith’s eyes for a moment. “You’re everything I want,” he tells Keith, and sinks his mouth down around Keith’s cock. He closes his eyes and lets himself fall into the rhythm of Keith slowly rocking in and out of his mouth, listening to Keith’s breathing grow ragged.

“That’s enough for now,” Keith rasps, pulling Shiro off. “I don’t want to come till I fuck you.” He takes Shiro’s hands and pulls him to his feet; together, they strip Shiro of his own clothing. Keith finally kicks off his boots and pants too, and then they tumble back into bed.

For a moment they lie quietly, legs tangled together, kissing softly. Shiro squeezes Keith’s wrist, where the black zeroes mark his skin. “You know I loved you long before this showed up.”

“I know. Me too.” Keith presses closer, kissing Shiro with a little more urgency. “I’m only sorry I didn’t kiss you sooner. I could have been kissing you for _years_.”

“We’ll make up for it,” Shiro promises. “We have time.”

“Starting now,” Keith says. He rolls his hips against Shiro’s, laughing when it makes Shiro bite off a groan. “Why don’t you get on your hands and knees?”

Shiro does as he’s asked, pressing his forehead into the cool, soft pillows on their bed, offering himself to Keith with no shame or restraint. With Keith’s gentle hands on his skin, and Keith’s cock hot and hard inside him, Shiro floats. Keith makes him feel safe, beautiful, free. Within one lifetime, Shiro has lived two lives: the one where he was doomed to die young, after a frantic scramble to check off as many of his goals as possible... and this new one, where time stretches out—well, not _endlessly_ , but long enough at least.

Distantly, he’s aware of Keith gasping against his shoulder; of heat filling him; of Keith’s soft tongue dipping inside him as Shiro cries out and comes all over the sheets. He collapses to the bed, trembling, and Keith lies down with him and pulls a blanket around them both, cuddling Shiro skin-to-skin and whispering sweet words to him. “ _I’m_ the lucky one,” he hears Keith say, and he would protest, but Keith is kissing him again, and it feels much too good to stop.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter: [@belovedsheith](https://twitter.com/belovedsheith)


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